She Rises
I have news for you:
The creek swells, ducks dive, the dry time has gone.
Trees tremble in winter storms, deep green the land;
Shadows long, sweet the sun, warmth wanted.
The hawk sings in a sapphire sky.
On the ground, souls quicken, breathe clouds.
This is my news.
As we move into the early spring and toward Brigidtide, poetry again enchants me. This was written after an evocative ninth century Irish poem, found scrawled in the margin of a scribe’s manuscript. It is a lovely counterpoint to the sacred scripture being copied carefully in the text block of the page. This, too, is sacred writing:
I have news for you:
the stag bells
winter snows
summer has gone
wind high and cold
the sun is low
short its course
the sea running high
deep red the bracken
its shape is lost
the wild goose has raised its accustomed cry
cold has seized the birds’ wings
season of ice
this is my news
The photo was taken on a chilly late afternoon walk after much rain. With the goddess Brigid on my mind, she seemed to appear in my image, her breasts, her belly, in the holy water. Yes, she rises.
That was my first impression as well Cari- I can see her there, shining. Thanks for sharing this lovely essay and poem.
Cari, thank you for this beauty as I struggle to keep my balance in the midst of much self-righteous hatred swelling all around. We all need reminders of sacred beauty.
Both poems speak to me, lovely inspiration.
Thank you.
Love this so much, Cari.